


seven thousand miles away

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, Jealousy, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 08:44:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17895260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Hinata should have known.He should have known that just because they’ve already gone past through the rocks and pins, over the rough bumps at the start of their road, it doesn’t guarantee they won’t ever encounter it again. Because they'rehereone more time, taking up several sizes bigger than Kageyama’s room, suspended in the form of, “you’re leaving for England?”...Kageyama’s and Hinata’s journey is a tale of hardship where they dance along a thin line: one side of it, a bedding of roses, then the other, a pool of broken glasses. And, it’s up to them to decide where they want to fall into.





	seven thousand miles away

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tsunderei](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsunderei/gifts).



> A VERY LONG SAPPY MESSAGE UP AHEAD: 
> 
> happy birthday to my soulmate, the loveliest one and only dumbass-in-crime, cherry <3 it's been about a year since we last got to know each other, but it honestly feel like years! it's unbelievable how close we've gotten within a year, but i guess kagehina feels just the same way in their first year \o/ firstly, thank you so much for sticking by my side, you've been a great and lovely company, even if you don't think so, it's the truth i'd gladly shove into your face 1923981 times!!! i hope you enjoy this fic, i've been planning it for MONTHS, but i only got around to flesh out the details within the last 3 days LOL orz so... the gift is less than perfect, but i hope the second (hopefully final) chapter would turn out far far better and longer than the first one. anyway, i love you, so so much. i hope you get to feel my love for you throughout this whole fic. <3

It’s no secret that their path first started out rough. Its slope as steep as a mountain, with jagged rocks, scattered pins and stacked nails.

It’s not secret that they’ve clashed for a count of too many times.

At the start, it’s all what they’ve done: push, push, push, but never a pull, pull, pull. Yet, like the magnetic tides of ocean waves, fate skillfully works its thread of magic on them both, weaving two poles together into a line until somewhere along the way, the ram of their heads smooths down to a gentle bump.

Then, from there, their paths opened up a bridge to a whole new islands full of wonders for them to roam through, with chests of riches for them to luxuriate in.

Since then, Hinata doesn’t know what they quite are, friends, or lovers, but a strange sense of contentment fills him up despite this lack of label.

One thing he knows, however: their relationship is not any simple, easy to explain, friendship.

On the nights of their sleepovers, they’d crawl into each other’s laps, had their hands sailed through the courses and lumps on their skin, sparking their bodies with jolts of joy; and this ritual touching session of theirs always ends in an embrace, wired minds pining for sleep. Meanwhile, in Hinata’s sleepovers with Koji and Izumi, there was never _that_.

Not to say, there are no days when questions would drill into the side of his head. There definitely are. On some of those days, the drill still runs, still turning, still cutting, not tiring of any battery, not until it reaches the very core of his wit. It wants to leave him gaping like a fish, to shake in his vulnerability, in his aching hope for what they could ever be.

For _what_ they could ever be- it starts with the scene before him.

Hinata presses up against the wall, shadows cocooning him in, putting him out of sight as he sneaks upon the private scene.

Up ahead in a secluded part of the courtyard, Kageyama stands tall, imposingly big compared to the petite girl by his side. Hinata eyes the pastel clips drawing back on her bangs; a sign of her enthusiasm, he notes, dressed for this particular moment where a small red gift sits in her hands, ready to be given away, ready for an acceptance, but not ready for the other side of the coin.

He zips back to his post just as he catches the outstretch of her hands. He busies himself then, the toe of his sneakers endlessly looping against the concrete.

A clock’s two hundreds ticks later, a pair of feet slows to a stop next to him.

Hinata cranes his head up to the side, the cool in his eyes welcomed by the haloing glow closing on Kageyama’s silhouette.

Their eyes engage in an intense contact for a solid moment, until Kageyama cleaves it, unceremoniously thrusting a red box right into Hinata’s hands, then turns away to head for the gym.

“What the- hey!” Hinata rages after him, baffled, incredulous, but mostly incredulous. “What are you giving me this for? It’s yours, stupid!”

“Don’t want it,” is all what Kageyama has to offer.

“Someone poured all their heart into making a gift _for you,_ then confessed to _you,_ and you just give it away?”

Kageyama shrugs. “Well, it’s not like it matters anyway if I don’t like them.”

Hinata wrinkles his nose. He crosses his arms, and huffs. “Then see if I ever make a gift for you when I confess, you ass.”

The steady light air drops with a heavy anchor. Hinata’s heart stutters just as Kageyama brakes to a standstill, head perked in display of interest.

“Um. I mean, uh.”

“Was that a confession?”

Hinata staggers, “and- and- so, what if it was?!”

“Then,” Kageyama does a somersault; he rounds on him, shoes cheeping, and the slow drums in Hinata’s ears speeds up to a helicopter’s chops as Kageyama _looms_ over him. He's rendered breathless as the gift gets pried out of his hands. “I’ll accept this gift from you.”

Like a comet, Kageyama fleets across the covered walkway, abandoning the orange boy in favor of practice.

It takes an embarrassing hot minute for Hinata to properly digest the gist.

“Wait a second- that gift isn’t from me!" He finally speaks up, 'Stupid Kageyama, don’t just brand someone else’s gift as my gift!”

…

Hinata should have known.

He should have known that just because they’ve already gone past through the rocks and pins, over the rough bumps at the start of their road, it doesn’t guarantee they won’t ever encounter it again. Because they're  _here_ one more time, taking up several sizes bigger than Kageyama’s room, suspended in the form of, “you’re leaving for England?”

Kageyama lies warm beneath him. Hinata slots his head against the dip where Kageyama’s heart rhymes. He watches in fascination, how his chest rises with every slow drag of breath, then sinks with a dispel of air. He wishes it could dispel the growing problems along with it, too.

“Yeah,” says Kageyama.

“But, _why?”_

“My mom is a diplomatic officer,” Kageyama tells him, slowly. “She’s been assigned to a post in London, and she wants to bring me along with her, so…”

“How about university? The scouts? _Volleyball?”_ Hinata’s face flushes as he babbles on.

“One of the universities there offered me a sports scholarship.” Kageyama supplies, “it’s a good university, so I accepted.”

Hinata pries open his legs up further until it digs at Kageyama’s sides. There’s a clump in his throat, and it’s keeping him from shouting out, _no, you can’t leave, you can’t go,_ so he settles for a press of his weight onto him instead, as though Kageyama won’t go anywhere if he were to be held firm right in his place.

“How long?”

“Maybe four years…” Kageyama quietly says. “It’s for a long while. That’s why my mom wants me to come, too.”

A stagnant moment sprouts between them. The buds of future Hinata sees in his mind has begun to wilt long before they could even bloom, dampened with likely murkiness and uncertainty from up ahead. Four years, he sulks, _without_ Kageyama. He won’t just be out of his reach, he’d become an intangible presence to touch, no longer a physical comfort for him to bury his face into, and cars nay trains don’t even stand as an option for him to do just that. Plane tickets would be the only option for those four years, and it's a costly luxury, too.

As his heart plummets at the thought, he finds himself spun around, sinking into the soft springs of cotton bed. Hinata yelps right as Kageyama flops right on top of him, but he doesn’t push him off, pulls him in closer instead and even though Kageyama's heavy, at least Hinata knows that this moment is real.

Their hearts align, and Hinata easily makes out the heavy thumps racing from the other wing.

“You’re scared.” Hinata declares.

Another rustle pierces through before a muffled _“yeah,”_ comes out.

 _I’m scared, too,_ Hinata wants to say, but holds his tongue. “What are you scared of?”

“Everything.” Kageyama chokes out, and his breath is so warm- _wet_ against the crook of his neck. “What if… what if the team there doesn’t like me. What if things go wrong? What if…”

“What if?”

“What if we forget each other?”

And there it is, Hinata’s fear left out all in the open, preying on him in circles, ready to tug and tear at him from the sides, stealing every bits of rim until there’s isn’t a piece of him left.

But, for Kageyama, he has to be strong- even if he ends up nothing.

He hooks his fingers onto the foot of Kageyama’s ears, at the gap abaft his jaws. He cradles his cheeks, delicately as though the flesh is made of glass, and soothes a thumb over the sun-kissed skin. Slowly, he lifts Kageyama’s face to lay the first stone of their gaze contact.

It’s cool blue in this room. The moonlight staves off the pitch dark as it flutters through the windows, filling up the whole room. And in this light, Kageyama’s eyes would have shined a thousand times brilliant of its hue if it isn’t for the clouded tears glazing over.

_For Kageyama, he has to be strong._

He leans in as much as he can in his restricted position, tipping over to kiss the creases on Kageyama’s forehead. With all the courage and every bit of confidence he could muster, he says, but mostly to himself, “we won’t.”

…

The airport is cold. _Too_ cold in fact, that a thick coat and a scarf hadn’t been enough to warm him up. So, he decides to leech it off from the boy, whose delicious heat thrums beneath his solid muscles, and he does this by burrowing into his side despite all the space next to him the bench has to offer.

"So..."

"Hm?"

“You really don’t mind, do you?”

“Mind, what?”

“You don’t mind me…” Kageyama falters. “You know.”

“No, I don’t know.”Hinata prods at him again, “what?”

“Me, flying off. Not being here. Are you really okay with that?”

“... A little too late to ask that, don’t you think?” Hinata waves him off halfheartedly, taking this second to scrutinize the hand in his. It’s big, calloused, veins decorate along the dorsal in seam, and when Hinata trails his fingers along the nib to its crook, the grains and ridges all trill under his touch.

 _Pretty hand,_ he swoons, _and he’s going to miss holding it in his._

Hinata nearly jolts in surprise when the bigger hand takes leverage of the system, sweeping his own hand up into a secured clasp. He watches, fallen captive to the way Kageyama draws them in closer, and closer, and— Hinata really jolts this time, reduced to a rack of shivers, but it’s not because of the chill. Against his knuckles, a pair of lips presses into them, and they feel soft, _cold,_ but the warmth it’s emanating outdoes it.

“Then,” Kageyama speaks into his hand, “you’re not okay with it.”

“I mean,” Hinata distressingly states, “if there was a choice for you to stay and you didn’t take it, I’d _kick_ you.”

Kageyama pulls his hand away to snort. “You can’t kick me.”

“And why not?”

“You’re tiny.”

“Not tiny,” Hinata huffs. “And, I can _totally_ kick your butt even if I’m short.”

“Right,” Kageyama concedes. “Sure.”

“... You’re not really convinced, are you?”

“No. Not really.”

“Boys!” A shout splits them apart. They turn to the voice, simultaneously spotting Kageyama’s mother by the sideline, a guilty smile fixed upon her face, and she doesn’t to speak it out loud, to let them know that, _it’s time._

They arise from their seats, and like many other times, they fall into the same pace together, following each other to the gates where the boarding lounge sits on the other side.

For a long stretch of their walk, they speak no words.

Until they take their one last step before their stop, and their limbs turn a tangled mess; Kageyama grabs a fistful at the back of his shirt right as Hinata launches himself right into the open arms. His head slots perfectly beneath Kageyama’s chin, and he makes out the lukewarm sensation as Kageyama’s nose as it pokes through the wild threads of his hair. He tiptoes to chase after the feeling, squeezes his eyes shut to relish in this bucket of bliss.

“I’ll miss you,” is what he blurts out, unable to hold up the dam any longer.

“I’ll miss you, too.” Kageyama mutters. “Dumbass.”

When they pull away, it takes all the strength in Hinata to not pull Kageyama back in for another hug; specifically, a hug that won’t ever let go.

But, it’s time for them to learn how to let go now.

It’s time for them to fly on their own.

Their promise to stand on the court, together, _just them,_ and against the world- it can wait another time.

When Kageyama walks ahead with his mother in tow, he does one thing he’s never done before, not even when he’s with Hinata: he looks back. His gaze on Hinata never leaves, it lingers as he presents his credentials to the officer, as he walks through glass framework, and Hinata endlessly wears his toothy grin, flailing his arms about in a _goodbye_ wave, until the automatic doors does the knife, cutting them out from each other’s sight.

It gets harder and harder to blink back his tears as Kageyama’s silhouette disappears into thin air beyond the panels.

…

University turns out to be a whole new experience.

He’s moved into a new apartment not too far away from his campus. He starts to learn how to be more independent than ever- making food for himself, cleaning the bathroom- in fact, he’s been learning a lot of things lately, mostly how to be on his own, now that his mother, or his little sister, or _Kageyama,_ isn’t there to accompany him.

Unlike his previous schools, Hinata’s classes aren’t constricted to one galaxy that’s a tiny room, with the constant stars that’s his unchanging classmates. Rather, they take place in massive lecture halls, filled up by a hundred of students, or a few, or so. Maybe that’s why they call it a _university_ because it's as big as the universe, so much bigger than the galaxy he’s used to spiral in.

But, it’s not much of a problem for him. He’s energetic as ever, and though he doubts there’d ever be someone to fill up the space where Kageyama would forever occupy, he’s still eager to meet tons of new people, and it turns out, Noya-san, as well as that blond setter, Miya Atsumu, goes to the same university as he does, too. He discovers this the day he signs himself up for volleyball club.

He’s been urged plentiful of times to plug into more clubs, to branch out and expand his skills so it can help him find work after graduation, but he’s hellbent on taking this as his only club. There’s no plan in store for him to remove himself from it in any way; since he first laid his eyes on the heroic pixels in the TV, he’s already decided to pledge his loyalty and devotion to volleyball. It doesn’t matter if Kageyama no longer looms tall, big and dark next to him- it won’t stop him from going for beyond. If anything, he makes it his goal now: the next time they meet, he’s going to make sure he knocks Kageyama’s socks off with his impressive growth in volleyball.

So, he plans to withhold the juicy bits from Kageyama whenever they get in touch. It seems that his effort is unneeded and unnecessary, though.

Because it’s been hard for them to keep in touch.

The first few weeks had been full of trials and errors, it takes a while for them to adjust and finely tune in with each other again. Then again, perhaps that’s a given since their timezone no longer aligns. They’ve gone from living in the same hour to living in the polar ends of a day, and it would have been poetic considering their contrasting personalities, but it just adds onto the pile of obstacles for them to overcome. Kageyama’s _spectacular_ texting skills doesn’t do much help either, but Hinata could tell that he’s trying to put in more effort into it now, his texts have definitely become lengthier, no longer a one-worded response, and the thought makes him giddy, heart fluttering in golds at the freshly brewed endeavor.

 _‘It still feels weird,’_ he reads a text from Kageyama one morning, sent a few hours ago, _‘feels like I went back into the past or something.’_

 

Sent to stupid-yama.

Text delivered on 07:45am.

_ < [ TEXT: Don’t worry! Future man here says you’ll get used to it! ٩(•̤̀ᵕ•̤́๑)] _

 

He attaches a quick picture of himself after the message, sent with a handful of heart emojis pasted onto it.

Later that noon, he receives an image in return. A wide grin splits at the seams of his lips as he ogles the selfie Kageyama had sent him. Though the picture does no justice for Kageyama’s good looks, he still soaks in every detail it has to offer; his mind carries out the imagination for him as he basks in the ghostly touches his skin has come to memorized, as though Kageyama really is there with him.

 

Sent from stupid-yama.

Text received on 04:58pm.

_< [ TEXT: Does the future man know that I miss him ]_

 

He goes through the day, feeling warm. His wallpaper, Kageyama.

…

The first time they had a video call is, admittedly, both a bit of spontaneous and disastrous; and Hinata had been the one to initiate it.

See, it’s not actually their first time, but it’s been a month after their parting, and that’s what they do when they haven’t seen each other for sometime, when one is away to spend the summer break with their relatives.

Hinata’s fresh out of the showers when he pulls up his phone, the vigorous breeze saturating his aching muscles spent from hard work in volleyball. It’s out of habit when he presses to start the video call, bafflement plunging his senses when it doesn’t come through. He doesn’t give up however- he never does, really- and stubbornly keeps pressing the button, one failed attempt after another, until finally, _finally,_ his screen blinks and a grumpy Kageyama appears, whose frown is ever so deep and perpetual.

“You dumbass,” Kageyama starts, “you stupid, dumb, idiotic, dumb _, stupid,_ dumbass.”

Hinata belts out into a laughter, “you said stupid and dumb twice.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Kageyama says. “The first thing I’ll do when I get back, I’m going to _shove_ my feet up your ass. You called me _right_ in the middle of the class!”

“Oh.” Hinata gapes, as he falls into a dawn of realization. _Right._ Time zone difference. “Oops? I forgot.”

Kageyama only grunts. “So, what the hell did you call me for?”

It's clear that the boy is still not amused, but Hinata decides it’d be worth it for what would happen next.

Hinata shrugs, then says, “just wanted to see my favorite person before I go to bed.”

He’s right, it definitely _is_ worth it. His words work like a charm: he sends Kageyama sputtering, and Hinata couldn’t help but laugh, laugh, and laugh- he misses this, misses the red blobs painting Kageyama’s cheeks, misses witnessing the fluctuating indescribable expressions coming across his face, the wobbly lips that seems to can’t decide whether it wants to scowl or smile. And, it’s all because of _him_.

“Y-you can’t just—” Kageyama exhales roughly, trying to calm himself down, but his effort works just as well as screwing a nail into a bricked wall. “So… how- how are things over there?”

“It’s good so far,” Hinata hums. “My teammates are pretty good! Noya-san’s receives are _thunderous_ as ever, and oh, yeah- I forgot to tell you, but that setter is here too!”

“Huh? Who? What setter?”

“Miya Atsumu! Remember him? We’re on the same volleyball team now!”

“Oh. Him.” Something flashes across Kageyama’s face, but Hinata chooses not to comment on it.

He smiles, skirts of his nails bluntly scrapes against the fabric of his shirt. “His tosses are good...” Then, thoughtfully, he adds, “but not as good as yours.”

Kageyama snorts, “you always say that when other setters toss to you.” but there’s a small hint of pride in there that doesn't go undetected. And whatever look it was that flared up earlier has already been vanquished, too.

“But I’m not wrong, am I?” Hinata implores. “How about you? How’s the team?”

Kageyama begins to ponder. “Everyone is nice, I guess. Good, too, actually. One of the members on team can speak Japanese, so they translate what I can’t say in English… which is often.”

“Honestly, the fact you even got into an English university is a _miracle.”_

“You seriously want a feet shoved up your ass, huh?”

“Oh, come on,” Hinata snickers, “you didn’t even know that _turn_ could mean a lot of things.”

“It’s dumb, honestly. Why the hell do you even dump a lot of meanings into one word? Why not just make _another_ word?”

“I think it’s good. I don’t think I can handle memorizing any more words.”

“That’s because you’re way too forgetful, maybe that’s why your hair is orange.”

Hinata squawks in affront. “What does my hair have to do with this?!”

“Y’know. Like goldfishes. They’re orange. And forgetful, too, just like you.”

And it’s like this as they continue to idly talk, Hinata wallows in the presence, the rich timbre voice coming from the other side of his screen. He feels truly more lighthearted than he had been the past few weeks, so when Kageyama tells him he has to go for his next class and _don’t call me in the middle of class again, dumbass,_ he tries to desperately hold back the anchor in his chest from falling into the ocean’s depth.

“Bye,” Hinata bids his farewell solemnly.

Kageyama opens his mouth, seems to be hesitating for a good second. It doesn't go unnoticed.

“What’s wrong?” asks Hinata.

“No, it's nothing. Head to sleep. Night.”

“G’night,” Hinata parrots after him, and shoots Kageyama a sweet smile for one last time.

He sits in the hollowness, and he's never felt as empty as the screen is before him.

…

 

Received from stupid-yama.

Text received on 02:13am.

_ > [ TEXT: Are you there? ] _

 

Sent to stupid-yama.

Text delivered on 02:15am.

_ < [ TEXT: Kageyama? ]_

 

Sent to stupid-yama.

Text delivered on 02:15am.

_< [ TEXT: What’s wrong? ]_

 

Sent to stupid-yama.

Text delivered on 02:21am.

_ < [ TEXT: Kageyama???? ]_

 

Sent to stupid-yama.

Text delivered on 02:27am.

_< [ TEXT: Hello??????? ]_

 

A phone ring comes blasting through the quiet sirens in his still bare apartment.

Hinata doesn’t let the rings delay any further; the second he hears it, he picks it up.

“Kageyama?” He calls out, blearily rubbing at his eyes. From the other end of the line, he hears a heavy breathing, an epiphany that immediately sends him alert and awake, the cogs in his head starting to wheel.

“Hey,  _breathe_.” Hinata soothes. His brows furrows further in worry when the breathing only grows. “Hey, Kageyama, are you with me? _Are you with me?_ Okay, take deep breath- one, two- yeah, that’s it. Breathe in, make sure your stomach rises when you breathe in,  _and—_ breathe out. Yeah, that’s it. You’re good.”

He knows what this is. Kageyama has told him about this before, and it's why Hinata sometimes finds himself biking through the mountains in the middle of the night if it means to be there for his favorite person, and help him through.

The sounds had struck a deep chord, grappling at his heart, squeezing it as though arrows aren’t enough, but what strikes the final bullet is the fact that Kageyama is far too out of his reach, not even his bike could tear through the impossible for him. So, he tries the next best thing he can do: he stays on the phone, guides Kageyama along with his breathing, as he spills in a few words of comfort.

When Kageyama is no longer a gasping mess, and Hinata feels he's composed enough to talk, he asks. “Do you want to talk?” Hinata makes sure to keep his voice down, soft, so to not burst the bubble they're in, afraid that if it were to pop, they’d fall into an endless abyss.

“No… no.” Kageyama croaks out. Hinata imagines the shake of his head.

“Okay,” Hinata relents, “want me to tell a story instead?”

“No,” Kageyama answers, and he sounds more solid now, more grounded. “It’s… it’s fine. I’m good.”

“Then, what can I do?”

“Nothing. Just… just be there.”

Hinata's grip on his phone tightens.

In that small split of infinity, the silence speaks louder than any words could have, so big it takes root in his chest.

It’s cold, it’s dark in his apartment, but the light he feels is so bright it makes the roots within quickly bloom into flowers, and he wants to share some of it with Kageyama, too. “I’m here,” Hinata whispers into the receiver. “I'm here, Kageyama.” 

He doesn't receive any response, but when he hears a small sniff, he knows he's got his message across.

“I know,” Kageyama tells him. "I know."

"Do you, really?"

“Yeah," Kageyama rasps, "you're here. You always do."

And, Hinata doesn't plan to change that anytime soon.

**Author's Note:**

> keep a look out for updates on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/shouyoto) or [instagram](https://instagram.com/shouyoto)!


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